Elizabeth Macklin
inglés
Maite zaitut, ez
Berrogei urtez labe garaietan lan egin arren,
barru-barrutik,
baserritarra izaten jarraitzen zuen.
Urrian, etxeko balkoian
soldagailuarekin
piper gorriak erretzen zituen.
Denak isilarazten zituen
haren ahots ozenak.
Alabak egiten zion soilik aurre.
Ez zuen inoiz maite zaitut esaten.
Tabakoak eta altzairuaren hautsak
ahots-kordak urratu zizkioten.
Mitxoleta bi hostoak galtzen.
Alaba beste hiri batera ezkondu zen.
Erretiratuak oparia zekarren.
Ez errubirik, zeta gorririk ezta ere.
Urtetan lantegitik ebatsi zituen piezak.
Soldagailuarekin
altzairuzko ohea josi zuen, ezari-ezarian.
Ez zuen inoiz maite zaitut esaten.
De: Zaharregia, txikiegia agian
Soraluze: Gaztelupeko hotsak, 2003
ISBN: Gaztelupeko hotsak
Producción de Audio: 2005, M.Mechner / Literaturwerkstatt Berlin
I love you, no
He never said I love you.
Even though he worked in the steel mills
in those times, through and through
he remained a farmer.
In October, he’d roast the red peppers
on the farmhouse balcony
with the acetylene torch.
His sounding voice
silenced everyone.
His daughter stood up to him.
He never said I love you.
Tobacco and steel dust
plowed through his vocal cords.
A field poppy less two leaves.
His daughter has married into another city.
The retiree brings a gift.
Not rubies, not red silk, either.
Over the years he lifted the parts from the mill.
With the acetylene torch
inch by inch he made her a bed from the steel.
He never said I love you.